#bullet train tangerine fic

[msmk11]

Heyyy, I just saw that you were taking requests for Tangerine x Readers, and I was wondering if you could write something like Tangerine and reader being fwb before the whole bullet train thingy, and she catches feelings but he's super distant (bro has serious attachment issues) so he pushes her away and is a bitchy manchild about it (LOTS AND LOTS OF ANGST but it has a fluffy ending) (smutty too if ur comfortable with it) ofc u can ignore this request if u don't want to, and I'd write it myself but I have zero motivation rn and I js wanna cry and then giggle😭🫶

And I Have To Live With It, For the Rest of My Life

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: HEAVY ANGST; slut shaming; booze/being drunk; fighting; cursing; lack of aftercare; mentions of sex; Tangerine is a HUGE asshole. Tiny fluff ending.

A/n: Hi love! Thanks for requesting! Sorry this took so long I just needed to find inspo. I’m also sorry for the lack of smut (and fluff tbh,) I just don’t take smut requests. As for fluff, I did want a “happy ending” but it felt cheap to try and go from ANGST to “everything is perfect again” in such few words. Maybe I’m just traumatized, but I have a hard time forgiving quickly lol and I think that shows here.

Everything was really, really good.

So of course you had to go and ruin it.

People say you can’t control matters of the heart and you think that it’s a load of bullcrap. Why not? Why couldn’t you have control over your heart?

And why did you have to catch feelings for Tangerine?

It isn’t part of the deal. Tangerine is a business partner. An acquaintance. A friend. A friend you occasionally fuck.

Your relationship with Tangerine was always supposed to be casual. No strings attached- business was simply business and fucking simply fucking. But then your heart got involved.

What’s one supposed to do?

Certainly not keep going back to the captor of one’s heart.

So of course that’s exactly what you do.

You’re laying in your hotel bed, completely naked, covers pooled around your waist. You and Tangerine just finished having sex and he’s already up and moving about, throwing on his clothes that had been discarded on the floor somewhere in your flurry of lust. Instead of saying anything, you just watch him in all his glory. You admire his tousled post-sex hair, curls askew, the way his back muscles ripple as he bends down to sweep his shirt up off the ground, and the way his fingers deftly button up his shirt.

“Got a meeting to head off to?” You ask casually.

Translation: Please don’t run off so soon if you don’t have to. Stay.

Tangerine’s eyes flit to yours briefly before he bends down to tie his shoes, “something like that.”

“Mhmm.”

You pull the covers up to your neck, suddenly feeling very vulnerable so bare and exposed to Tangerine who’s nearly fully dressed.

“You got a comb?” the brunette asks you gruffly as he straightens his suit jacket.

You nod towards the bathroom, “yeah, in there.”

He gives you no reply, only walking into the bathroom and shutting the door with a resounding thud.

Your stomach clenches painfully and your heart aches. The indifference with which Tangerine treats you hurts so badly. You’d rather him hate you then act like this. At least you’d know that he felt something, anything.

Is it too early for a drink?

The bathroom door opens again and Tangerine walks out, looking as though nothing ever happened. To him, nothing probably has. Nothing of consequence, at least.

“Well, I’m heading out. See you for our debrief tonight at nine.”

Tangerine begins to walk towards the door.

“Wait!” you call out.

You stop him just in time, his hand frozen on the handle. You swear he visibly tenses at your words, “what?”

“Could- could you at least get me a towel? Please?”

He doesn’t even look at you before nodding, “Yeah.”

He disappears into the bathroom for a moment before reappearing with a towel in hand. Tangerine, it seems, doesn’t even have the decency to walk the towel over to you. Instead, he tosses it across the room, almost hitting you in the face.

“Thanks.”

Shame pools in your stomach and you keep your gaze on the towel in your hands.

Tangerine grumbles a reply and then makes for the door so quickly that there’s no chance for you to say anything more.

Your heart sinks at the possibility that Tangerine might know you have feelings for him.

*****

You’ve already found a secluded spot in the hotel lounge and have a drink in hand when the twins appear downstairs. They take a seat across from you wordlessly and Tangerine lifts his hand in the air gracefully, motioning for a cocktail waitress to come take his order. Lemon and him order their drinks, and you ask for a second. It bothers you severely when you catch Tangerine winking at the waitress out of the corner of your eye.

You down the rest of your drink in one gulp and ignore how it burns your throat.

“Right, so the job’s done. When are we getting out of here?” Lemon asks tiredly.

“We,” Tangerine says, pointing between him and his brother, “are out of here first thing in the morning, “I’ve booked our tickets for a 5 am flight.”

“And her?” Lemon responds, pointing to you.

Tangerine barely glances at you, but you can see his jaw tense, “the job’s done. Figured she’s a fucking big girl who can handle getting herself home. Isn’t that right, love?”

Condescension drips from Tangerine’s words and it makes your stomach drop. You refrain from saying what you really want to and instead assume a relaxed persona, “mhmm, always right you are. I arranged for my travel last night.”

You, luckily, weren’t lying, though you had ordered a car big enough for three. More room for you, you guess.

The waitress comes back with your drinks and you eagerly take yours. When she asks if you need anything else, you can tell that she’s really only talking to Tangerine. Still, you tell her yes, asking for a third drink.

Lemon eyes you, “you haven’t even touched your second drink and now you’re ordering a third?”

You shrug your shoulders nonchalantly and lean back in your chair, “I’ve got the money to spend on it now that we each just made what, nearly 12,000 pounds?”

Lemon smirks in celebration and holds out his drink to you, “cheers.”

You clink glasses but Tangerine doesn’t join in, a perpetual frown gracing his face.

“Ya really wanna get fucking sloshed before ya travel tomorrow?” the brunette suddenly chimes in- rather judgmentally, you might add.

“Who said anything about sloshed, Tangerine? I can hold more than you think.”

While your answer is confident, even combative, on the inside, your heart leaps into your throat and pounds desperately. You think you might explode.

“Still, ya certainly don’t have any self-control. Not over ya drinks, your mouth, and most importantly….” Tangerine’s eyes narrow at you, “not over ya emotions.”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

So Tangerine did know about your feelings. Worse? He’s being a right fucking prick about it too. There’s no emotional sensitivity, no respect for privacy, nothing. Serves you right for fucking a cold-blooded assassin.

Unfortunately for you, tears spring to your eyes despite the fury boiling in your stomach, “you wanna talk about control, Tangerine? Let’s talk about how you have so little control over your own feelings that you lash out at others and make them feel like shit, even your own brother, so that you feel better. Let’s talk about how you can’t keep your dick in your pants because you’d rather fuck anything that looks at you than deal with anything real. Let’s talk about how what’s happened between us has made you feel so out of control that you’re willing to go low enough to hash this out in fucking public. You’re a walking disaster, Tangerine, and I feel right fucking sorry for you, I really do.”

You stand up harshly and purposely knock his drink onto his expensive suit. You start to walk away and then turn back, batting your eyelashes innocently, “oh wait, should I get you a fucking towel to clean up? Or would you rather beg me for it?”

You don’t wait for a response and grab a dry towel off a random cleaning rack, throwing it right in his fucking face.

*****

Tangerine glares after you as you storm off.

“What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Lemon protests.

Tangerine ignores Lemon and instead curses loudly before chasing after you. He could not let you have the last fucking word. He catches you right in time, hand stopping the doors of the elevator you’re in.

You look up at him startled, and your shocked expression is quickly replaced with an angry one.

“What the fuck, Tangerine? Get out of here!”

“Ya don’t get to fucking talk to me like that and spill my drink all over me and then just walk away.”

“Why not,” you scoff, “you ran away as soon as you were done using me to jack off. It only seems fair.”

The elevator doors slide shut and the car begins to move upwards slowly.

“Yeah, well that’s usually what happens when ya casually fuck someone. But I don’t think ya have a casual bone in your body- always stomping around being a dramatic attention-whore.”

Tangerine watches your eyes narrow and jaw harden, “there’s a difference between being causal and being a huge dick, Tangerine. I should’ve known you’d be the latter.”

“And I should’ve known not to mess around with a fucking slut like you.”

Your eyes widen in shock and even Tangerine knows that he’s taken things a little too far. While your effort to fight back your tears is valiant, it’s fruitless, and they begin to stream down your face.

“Fuck you, Tangerine. You know, I never expected you to return my feelings, and I’m sorry I crossed a line by falling for you. Swear to fucking god I wish I didn’t. But you- you’ve just crossed an unforgivable line, and I never want to see you again. Have a fucking nice life.”

The elevator doors slide open and you scurry out. This time, Tangerine doesn’t follow you.

*****

After everything that happened with Tangerine on your last mission, you decided to take an indefinite hiatus from work and just focus on yourself.

One of your goals? Fuck your feelings for Tangerine out of you. So of course, you’d been spending a lot of nights out at the bars, seducing all the eligible bachelors of the city into your bed.

You hope that it’s working.

Tonight is no different from the rest- you dressed up in one of your sexy outfits sitting at the bar of some new local pub. You’ve already eyed a muscular blonde about your age from across the bar and motion for him to come over.

He complies and makes his way to you, a cocky smirk on his face.

“Hey gorgeous,” you tease, looking him up and down.

The man takes a seat next to you, “Hullo, love. What’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting at the bar all by herself?”

You shrug nonchalantly, “looking for a handsome man. Like you, I suppose.”

He cocks his eyebrow at you, “you suppose?”

“Always hard to tell in this type of lighting.”

The blonde bites his lip and eyes you, “I can promise you I’m handsome.”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m Matt,” he says, extending his hand.

You respond with your name and grasp his hand. You’re expecting a handshake, but instead he brings your knuckles to his lips and kisses them softly.

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Damn this man is smooth.

“Really, the pleasure is all mine, Matt,” you respond, trying not to appear too flustered.

“Can I get you a drink?”

“Yeah, sure. Surprise me though.”

Matt orders the two of you drinks and you take the time to ogle him. He’s perfect.

But not as per-

Nope.

No, you don’t have time to think about him.

Matt hands you the mysterious concoction and you eye him, “what is it?”

“Just drink,” he nods, “promise it’s good.”

You take a small sip and it’s sweet. It’s yummy, and you take another, larger sip.

“Oh shit, this is good.”

“Told you.”

“Can I know what it is now?”

“No way. Need to hold this above you so you keep coming back to me to ask for another.”

You chuckle and look down, “okay Mr. Smooth-Talker. That was pretty good.”

“I can do a lot more than that,” he says seductively. His hand slides out casually and finds a home on your thigh.

You inhale sharply in pleasant surprise and lean towards him, “oh really?”

Matt leans in towards you too, “yeah, like-“

Just as you’re about to kiss him you hear a loud shout.

“Hey, get your hands off her!”

You startle at the sound and turn to see who could possibly be yelling like a maniac inside this bar. You’re also curious to know who’s the one getting yelled at.

Your stomach drops when you realize that you’re the target. And the yeller?

Tangerine.

“Oh my fucking God,” you curse, resting your forehead in your hands.

Tangerine comes stalking towards you.

“Uh, who the fuck is that?” Matt asks warily.

“My ex….fuck-buddy? Friend-with-benefits? I don’t know, it was complicated. But a piece of shit- that’s what he is.”

“What the fuck are you doing, mate?” Tangerine yells at Matt when he approaches you two. His words slur together and you can tell he’s really, really drunk.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Matt says gruffly.

“I’m not the one getting handsy with someone else’s girl,” the brunette snarls.

You scoff loudly, “Your girl? That’s rich Tangerine. Last I recall I was just a slut you fucked.”

Tangerine’s expression softens just the slightest and you almost think you clock regret in his eyes.

“Look, mate, you’re drunk. So get your ass out of here before I hand it to you,” Matt threatens.

Tangerine is sent back into his rage and steps toward Matt menacingly, “you little fucking,”

“Okay,” you shout, stepping in between them and putting a hand on each of their chests, “that’s enough.”

“Tangerine, go. home,” you growl.

“Yeah fucking right I-“

“Just let me take him,” Matt interrupts.

You scan his tense body, “Look, I appreciate it, but you’re not gonna win. Tangerine here is, well, trained. And I don’t want anything to happen to your pretty face. I’ll take care of him.”

“But he’s definitely stronger than you,” Matt protests.

You side eye Tangerine, “he won’t hurt me.”

The blonde’s eyes narrow.

“Physically, at least.”

Matt finally sighs and steps back, “I’ll be waiting here for you.”

You send him a half smile and then turn to the brunette with a glare, “Let’s. Go.”

Then, you literally grab him by the ear and drag him outside the bar. Tangerine lets out a string of curses and tries to fight back a little before he finally gives up.

When you get outside you let go of his ear and shove him, “What the fuck was that, Tangerine?”

“I was trying to protect you from that git,” he slurs.

“Tangerine, you’re the git. You’re the one that hurt me. It’s you I need protection from.”

Tangerine’s tough guy facade crumbles right before your eyes into one of remorse. He suddenly looks years beyond his age and crumples down onto the sidewalk, back pressed to the wall.

You look down at him with disgust. His hair is all over the place, his clothes are a complete mess, and he reeks of booze.

“I’m calling Lemon.”

With shaky hands you dial his number.

He picks up rather quickly and you can hear the confusion in his voice when he answers, “uh, hello?”

“Lemon, come get your fucking brother.”

*****

Although Matt was everything you could’ve hoped for, your night was ruined after Tangerine left. Luckily, Matt was understanding, and you’d exchanged numbers to meet up another day.

When you’d gotten home from the bar, you’d broken down completely. All of the anger, betrayal, frustration and sadness that had been pent up within you for weeks burst forth like a raging storm. You’d sobbed and screamed and even pitched a picture frame of you, Tangerine, and Lemon across the room, shattering it. The broken glass was a problem for later-you, and you’d ended up falling asleep on your couch, still in your bar clothes.

Loud bangs are what startle you awake hours later, and you curse as you flail off the couch. You hit the floor with a thud and groan. Now, not only is your head pounding, but your back will be all beat up too.

The pounding on your door continues and you curse whoever is making a ruckus this early.

You yank the door open, “what the fuck do you want?”

The last person you expect to see is on the other side.

Tangerine.

“Fuck off,” you spit before swinging the door shut resoundly.

Except the door doesn’t close because Tangerine’s foot catches it.

“Fuck me,” he groans in pain.

The brunette shoves the door back open and you smirk, “that’s what you get for being in places you don’t belong. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”

“Wait, wait. Please, just give me a chance to talk to ya. And then, if ya want, you never have to fucking see my face again.”

You don’t reward him with a response and instead just walk away, sighing.

Tangerine takes this as an invitation and walks inside your apartment, letting the door shut gently behind him. You beeline straight to where you left off on the couch, paying him no mind.

The idiot must not be paying attention because you hear the crackle of glass beneath his shoes and a quiet curse.

Tangerine goes silent and you stiffen, listening closely. You hear the pings of shattered glass being sifted through and then his footsteps as he nears your spot on the couch.

“I forgot about this picture,” he rasps.

“Well you can fucking have it. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Can I- can I sit?”

You briefly glance over at Tangerine and look him up and down. You don’t respond, only nodding.

Though he, like you, is still in his clothes from last night, he looks ten times worse. The purple bags under his eyes are heavy and dark, his hair and mustache aren’t groomed, his button up is missing a few buttons, and his shoes are untied. Maybe it’s bad to say, but you revel in how miserable and pathetic he looks.

“You look fucking awful,” you remark, venom heavy in your tone.

“And ya look like you’ve been crying.”

“Well no shit, Tangerine. Sort of happens when someone you thought was your friend turns out to be a big fucking prick. “

He looks down at his feet and shuffles awkwardly, “I know. I’ve uh, that’s why I came here to talk to ya. To apologize.”

You scoff and look at him with disbelief, “okay now you want to apologize? Only when you’ve fucking hit rock bottom you wanna mend things?”

“Love, no I, I’ve been wanting to since that night in the fucking elevator I-“

“Don’t call me that,” you whisper angrily, lip wobbling in spite of yourself.

“I’m not your love, I’m not your friend, I’m not your anything anymore. We’re done Tangerine, this is over.”

It’s then that the boy you’ve known for almost five years does something you never would have imagined.

He grovels.

He literally gets on his knees before you and grabs your hands tightly, looking up at you with pleading eyes.

“Just listen to me for a second. Please. I want ya to know how fucking sorry I am. Not just for last night, but for everything. I’m sorry I called ya a slut. I’m sorry I was rude, and distant, and an asshole. I’m sorry for fucking you like some piece of meat and then just leaving you behind with no aftercare, no attention, nothing. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend and I’m sorry for not telling you that I love you sooner.”

Tears shine in Tangerine’s blue eyes and he chokes on his next words, “Christ, I love ya so fucking much. And I know I’ve gone and fucked things up now, and that it’s too late. And I have to accept every day for the rest of my life that it’s my fault. I have to live with that. And I will, even though it could kill me. But I don’t know what I would’ve done if I couldn’t tell ya at least once.”

Tangerine’s forehead falls to your knees and his body begins to shake in quiet sobs.

He inhales sharply through his nose, trying to hold back more tears, and looks up at you so sadly. “You’re the best girl out there, and you deserve the best. You deserve to find that with someone. Someone who isn’t me.”

Tears of your own begin to drip from your face and your heart throbs in your chest.

You reach out and cup Tangerine’s jaw so gently it’s as if he could crumble under your fingertips at any second.

“Tangerine,” you whisper.

You search his eyes for any sign of insincerity, of some sign that he’s going to break your heart again. But all you see is true, genuine adoration and vulnerability. Consciously or not, your heart returns to the hands of the one who holds and you pull him in, kissing him softly.

The kiss is sloppy, and salty and wet, but you don’t care, because every peck and sigh and bite is punctuated by what you both know- I love you. I love you. I love you.

[eternalslover]

Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Y/n: Hey I’m about to get in the shower. You wanna join me?

Tangerine: There’s a pistol taped underneath the island in the kitchen. If I ever say no to that question, I want you to shoot me. Aim for the head, don’t stop until I’m dead.

[lenacosse]

not to be dramatic but this interview saved my life

[sebsbarnes]

confessions || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

summary: "you're beautiful you know that love," tangerine said softly as if the declaration was a secret that only the space between you could know.

warnings: mention of a gun, injuries, blood

word count: 1.1k ; fluff

tangerine masterlist

you jolted awake, "what the hell," you mumbled.

eyes half open you patted around on the bed for your phone. the blaringly bright picture of a sunset staring back at you.

4:07am.

the noise that woke you up sounded again. banging at your front door. carefully you slipped out of bed and opened the drawer to your nightstand, grabbing the gun. slowly, you walked through the house creeping towards the door. the house felt eerily quiet more so than ever. the gun was held behind your back and before you could turn the doorknob you hear a voice.

"it's me."

you opened the door, "why are- jesus christ tangerine."

he smiled weakly at you, sort of shrugging, the suit jacket draped over his arm moving with.

"hey, love," he said dejectedly.

his typically smoothed back hair showed no sign of gel as his curls were a mess. the fitted suit that adorns his body was now loose with blood splattered sporadically on the fabric. the button-down shirt rolled up on his arms exposed his battered forearms. there was dirt on parts of his face, dried blood across his cheek and forehead, and a split lip.

"come in," you whispered, grabbing his hand pulling him in.

you locked the door and turned to the kitchen with tangerine still in tow. you turned the lights on in the kitchen, grabbing him water and pain reliever.

"eat these if you need something. i'm going to grab the first aid kit, alright?" you placed a box of crackers next to him on the counter and retreated to a hallway closet. when you came back, he was munching on a few and the glass of water in his other hand.

"okay now, what's the worst?"

"some prick got me in the thigh with glass," he grimaced gesturing to the torn trousers. you leaned in gently placing your hands on his thigh around the cut.

"take your pants off."

"well, that's quite forward love now, innit?" tangerine chuckled softly.

all you could do was roll your eyes as you turned around giving him a moment to hop off the counter and remove his pants. when you turned back around you couldn't help but swallow harshly at the man's muscular thighs.

"there's still bits of glass in this babes, i'm gonna have to take it out," tangerine hummed in response, clearly tired from whatever job he just came back from.

you grabbed a pair of tweezers and removed small pieces of glass left inside the wound and all tangerine could do was hiss in response. the wound was then cleaned and after tangerine gave you the greenlight, he let you stitch him up.

"now don't go fuckin' around you hear me. that's a good stitch," you said pointing at the finished product.

"yeah whatever darlin'," tangerine retorted.

you moved up to his face to clean the dirt and blood off him. you slid between his legs to get closer, fingertips accidently brushing over his thigh as you grabbed the rag next to him on the counter. you didn't notice the goosebumps that sprang to life on his skin and raced throughout his body. your lips were slightly pursed as the rag glided across his cheeks, wiping away the evidence of an earlier job.

tangerine couldn't help but stare at you during your concentration. the way your eyes danced across his face inspecting every minute detail. your eyelashes- god since when were they that long? he couldn't help the tiny smile that etched its way onto his lips hearing the small whistle your nose made as you breathed in and out. it was something you mentioned in passing that you hated, after your nose was broken on a job. small freckles decorated the bridge of your nose, and a now almost faded scar followed the curve of your cheekbone.

"you're beautiful you know that love," tangerine said softly as if the declaration was a secret that only the space between you could know.

you faltered slightly. you and tangerine were friends. any compliments thrown each other's way was typically about work. you often worked with the twins on jobs so the three of you were close. the dynamics on and off the job the three of you had was truly incredible. many people wanted the trio because they knew the job would be a success, most likely bloody, but still successful.

to even try and deny the fact that tangerine is gorgeous was absolutely ridiculous. when you first saw him, you truly went breathless for a moment. there was no way this man was in the business of killing was one of your first thoughts, he had to be a model of some sort. and as if his looks weren't enough, when he wasn't being a complete dickhead, he had the most charming and witty personality. it was intimidating being around him most times, the feeling of insecurity often loomed around you when he was nearby.

you looked him in the eye before averting your attention to his split lip, "why didn't you go home?"

"found myself wandering this way," he said slipping off the counter.

"bit far from your house," you whispered in return. tangerine brushed a strand of hair out of your eye, his thumb running over your cheek.

"no distance is too far for you, darlin'."

you aren't quite sure where these confessions were coming from, but you would be a fool to say you hated it. it was obvious how you felt about tangerine. you knew it, he knew it, lemon knew it, damn near everyone knew it.

"i didn't know you could be a sap," you gave him a slight smirk.

his eyes fluttered shut for a moment, "today was too risky, thought i could solo it, make some extra money. it was stupid. all i could think about was you," he confessed.

you toyed with the gold chain hanging on his exposed chest before gently tugging on it, bringing him to you. the kiss was soft but long. in the midst of the kiss tangerine had placed you on the counter, finding home between your legs and holding your waist carefully. your hands situated on the base of his skull tugging ever so slightly on his hair. tangerine's mouth parted slightly in reaction allowing you to bite gently on his lip, ignoring the fact you can taste blood. with a sigh you both finally pulled apart. his hands never left your waist.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you said.

tangerine wasted no time scooping you up in his arms, ignoring all the aches from today's job. 'i've waited months to hear these words,' he had muttered in your hair making his way through your house.

"i've waited just as long."

[pretty-little-mind33]

Tangerine x fem!reader

Summary: Tangerine has always chosen her over you, until he doesn't anymore.

Genre: angst and fluff

Warnings: Lemon, Tangerine, and reader are in their early twenties, toxic relationship, swearing, violence, men (the gross kind), body/weight insecurities, cheating, intoxication

~ based on a conversation i had with my wife @little-miss-dilf-lover and lightly inspired by Dial Drunk by Noah Kahn ~

TANGERINE MASTERLIST

It was midnight when you heard the sharp knocks on your apartment door. You knew your roommate was already asleep so you quickly pad out of your bedroom and through the living room, rubbing your sleepy eyes as you open the door a sliver and peer out into the corridor. You see Lemon first, a sympathetic look painted across his features as he holds up an extremely drunk Tangerine.

Tangerine's face is covered in bruises, the skin around his eye is slowly turning purple and you see the blood on his knuckles as he flexes his hands. Your eyes widen and you hurry out into the hall, your bare feet against the harsh carpet as you quietly shut the door behind you. "What happened?" you whisper, worried for him. Tangerine just grunts, his eyes glossy. 

He's been crying. 

Lemon groans and holds his brother higher, looking at you knowingly. As if he knows the news will somehow break your heart. You stare at him, as if to say 'cut the bullshit' because you want to see if it has something to do with Macey—which it probably does.

Tangerine and Macey have been dating on and off for years. Since high school she's had him wrapped around her pinky, his head a lust-filled mess that very quickly turned into full-blown puppy-love. She'd always be the one to dump him and he'd always come back because he loved her so much. It was an endless cycle that lasted until now, your junior year of university. 

You hate her. You have never hated anyone as much as you hate Macey Addams. 

You hate her silky ginger hair, the way her dark eyes contrast Tangerine's blue ones so well, and that fake smile she reserves for you when you see her. You hate how she laughs, how she talks, and how she looks in those skin-tight dresses Tangerine loves so much.  

You hate her.

You hate how you're not her. 

"Ran into some 'friends' from high school at the bar," Lemon says, emphasizing the word friends with a grunt, "Said some things this dick didn't like so he had to start a fucking bar fight, like some fucking criminal. All because of some bird who doesn't want nothin' to do with you anymore, mate," Lemon scolds Tangerine, who slouches against the wall and slides down, holding his head in his arms. 

"Someone called the coppers and I had to bail him out."

Your eyes widen and you run a hand in your messy hair, kneeling in front of Tangerine as you look up at Lemon. "Really?"

Lemon nods and removes his hand from Tangerine's shoulder. He walks away further down the hall, shaking his head as he groans. Lemon's mumbling curses under his breath and so is Tangerine, only his sound sadder than his brother. 

"Hey," you whisper, "Tan?"

His arms attach themselves to your waist, holding you close as he sobs. You sigh, resting your hand on his head as you let him hold you. Sometimes you'd find yourself being bitter, because why does he love Macey so much when you've always been here for him? 

You'd gift him the moon if you could, but instead, you're stuck being just this—his best friend.

Not that you're complaining. 

"Y/n?" he asks a while later as you both sit on the floor of your room, having managed to sneak him quietly through the living room. You're nursing frozen peas to his knuckles as he leans his head against your bed. Knowing Tangerine was in good hands, Lemon had gone home. 

You hum, looking at him. 

"If I could choose who I was in love with," he begins, his intoxication still obvious only he's slowly sobering up. He blinks slowly, finding his words, "I'd choose you."

You look into his blue eyes you'd normally want to drown yourself in and your heart shatters. He means well, you know this. Plus, how is he supposed to know you're actually madly in love with him when you've never told him?

However, the words hurt like hell knowing his love for Macey is almost otherworldly. He speaks of it like a chemical reaction he has no control over and you're simply the choice. Something mundane and easier. 

You turn your head and quickly wipe a tear from your cheek so he doesn't see. You look at him again and strain a smile. 

"I'd choose you too, Tan."

* * *

Four months later, although sometimes you would find him lost in thoughts of her, she was mostly a distant memory and your feelings for Tangerine have been successfully repressed.  

The pub is extra crowded this evening and you slither your way through people to where your date is. His name is Adrien, which is a respectable name. He's handsome enough if not a little boring. You order your drinks and then the conversation turns sour. 

"I mean, females need to watch their crabs, y'know. You should really order a salad," Adrien pushes the menu across the table, his voice calm like he'd just called the sky blue. You frown, cheeks warm as you cross an arm over your stomach, feeling insecure in your dress. 

"Females?" you repeat in disbelief that a man like this exists.

He doesn't answer. The waiter comes with the wine and you gulp yours down in one go.

In hindsight you should have left the moment Adrien opened his mouth, but something inside you embarrassingly craved any form of affection up until he tried to kiss you outside the pub, and when you pushed him away for the second time, he called you an ugly bitch and stormed off. 

Your lip wobbles as you stare at the lamppost, your hand clutching your purse strap so hard it hurts. You sniffle and fumble with your phone, texting the one person you know won't hesitate to come pick you up. You really don't want to walk home.

Minutes later, his car screeches in front of the pub and he opens the door from the driver's side, looking at you with a concerned expression as you climb in, buckling yourself. "Thanks," you mutter. 

"S'no problem, poppet," Tangerine says, sending you a sideways look as he starts the car again, shifting the gear as he drives off. You sink into the expensive leather seats and look out the window. You sniffle again, still holding an arm over your stomach. 

You keep hearing Tangerine's ringtone. Someone's bombarding him with texts. You turn, catching a glimpse of the contact's name as she calls him up again. The screen flashes her name. Mae. Macey. Tangerine turns his phone over in the center console, turning off the sound as he focuses on the road.

You look at him, your frown momentarily distracting you from how watery your eyes have become from the evening events. "Don't you want to answer?" you whisper. You know Tangerine would usually jump at an opportunity for her attention. This time, his jaw clenches and he shakes his head. 

"Rude to answer the phone when you're with someone, innit?" he says, looking at you briefly. "Are ya okay, love?" he asks, his tone softer now. 

You're a little surprised he's putting you over Macey but you relish in it.

You shrug. "Hm, bad date," you say. 

Tangerine's nose scrunches and his hands tighten on the wheel. "Did something happen?"

"If you count him being a jerk who thought it was normal to comment on my food choice on the first date, then yeah." You roll your eyes and look out the window again, blinking rapidly not to cry. You cross your other arm across your stomach as you instinctively suck in.

Tangerine catches the movement and his frustration boils. "You look beautiful," he says and places his hand on your knee. "Don't," he whispers, waiting for you to relax your poor stomach. You do it with a sigh and you're silent the rest of the car ride.

Once you're back home, Tangerine agrees to stay the night to keep you company after such a horrible experience. It really isn't smart, considering your heart latches on to him immediately, and it is only sent plummeting when just before your eyes flutter shut to sleep, you hear Tangerine's muffled voice in your bathroom, her name on his tongue.   

Of course, he'd called her back. 

* * *

Six months later Lemon is throwing a housewarming party for him and his fiancée, Liv. You'd decide to bring your boyfriend of three months. Unbeknownst to you, Tangerine also had invited a plus one neither you nor Lemon approved of. 

"Y/n/n!" her shrill voice calls over the music as you turn, your champagne almost falling from your hand as you see her. Her fiery red hair is cut shorter but it's as pretty as ever as she drops Tangerine's arm and skips over, pulling you into a hug. "I've missed you." Macey's tone is sweet, almost as if you'd been best friends for years. 

You see Tangerine handing Lemon his and Macey's coat, whispering something to his brother who sends him a dirty look. Macey continues to hug you and then introduces herself to your boyfriend Charlie. You don't miss how Charlie's gaze flickers to her breasts in her navy skin-tight dress. Macey smiles sweetly at him.

You feel sick. 

You excuse yourself and find Tangerine in the kitchen as he looks for a drink. "Macey? Really? You're a fucking puppy wrapped around her finger," you spit, slightly drunk from the champagne and frustrated from the situation.

Tangerine rolls his eyes. "She's changed. We're good now."

"You sound so stupid," you accuse, walking over and shoving his shoulder in an attempt to knock some sense into him. He grunts and steadies you with his hands as he frowns. 

"You're sloshed, Y/n."

You shake your head and push his hand away, eyes lidded. "You fucking tell your girl to keep her dirty mitts away from my boyfriend then!" Tangerine's anger rises as he hates what you're implying just as much as you do. 

"She's not like that," he argues and you scoff, turning around to storm off into the living room again. 

"Not anymore," Tangerine calls but you ignore him. 

An hour or two later, after some rounds of charades and sneaking glances you wish you hadn't seen between Charlie and Macey, you're even drunker. Lemon is beginning to worry as Liv insists you have more water. You don't know what you hate more, that your current boyfriend keeps looking at another woman, or how said woman keeps playing with Tangerine's tie as she sits curled up in his lap. 

You think it's all in your drunken mind when you stumble into the backyard and see Charlie with his hand under Macey's dress, her leg wrapped around his hip as they kiss passionately. They're probably fueled by liquor and lust but it doesn't matter, the dam breaks and you turn around, stumbling inside, alerting them to your presence. You're crying as you slam your head into someone's hard chest. 

"Woah. Bloody hell," Tangerine frowns and looks at you. He's probably the only sober person here. He's been fully sober for more than half a year now.  His hand comes up to your cheek immediately as he pads at your tears. "Love, what happened?"

You don't answer him, only sobbing more as you push by him and rush into the upstairs bathroom. Charlie stumbles inside, buttoning up his shirt and he makes uncomfortable eye contact with Tangerine. He stops cold, clears his throat, and nods his head at him before he rushes up the stairs after you. 

Tangerine's stomach drops. He takes a calming breath and puts his hands in his pockets as he walks outside and sees Macey adjusting her dress and wiping the sides of her mouth, where her mauve lipstick had smudged.

She turns to him, her voice still as she says calmly, "I can explain, T." She doesn't sound remorseful in any way, a clear indication that he's been letting her walk all over him. 

He takes another breath and walks to her, his demeanor just as calm and Macey's expression falters. Usually, this would rile him up and she loved the adrenaline she received from calming him down and taming him. This? This was new.

"It's one thing to hurt me," Tangerine drawls, staring at her with a cold gaze. "It's another to hurt her."

Macey frowns. "Who? Y/n? Who cares—"

"I care," he interrupts and takes Macey's chin in his hand, not tightening enough to hurt her, just to scare her. "You went too far this time and I should have never given you another chance. This? Us? We should have ended years ago."

He releases her and Macey's eyes widen. "Tangerine,"

"Get out." He says sternly and turns around, adding in a harsh tone, "And lose my fuckin' number."

Tangerine hears Charlie banging on the bathroom door the moment he enters the house again and his fists clench. He strides upstairs and pulls on your boyfriend's shoulder, feeling him jump as he looks at Tangerine. "Ya think ya haven't done enough?"

Charlie opens his mouth to protest but hearing Tangerine, you open the door just a little and peek outside, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes and a mess of snot under your nose. Tangerine's gaze softens when you sniffle. 

"Tan," you whisper. 

Charlie puts his hand on the door and attempts to pry it open. "Y/n!" He sounds urgent but Tangerine shoves him away, sending him a glare as he lets himself into the small bathroom and locks the door behind him again. 

You're inconsolable now as you cry violently. As angry as you are with Tangerine for bringing her, you need him now. You grasp his shirt and rest your forehead on his chest, shaking. Tangerine is as mad at himself as you are, maybe even more so. He wraps his arms around you and inhales the scent of your shampoo as he kisses your head repeatedly. 

"Darlin'," he whispers, his voice hoarse, "I'm so sorry. I'm so fuckin' sorry."

He hears another annoying sharp knock from Charlie again and instantly bangs his heel against the door, startling you a little but he holds you tighter and barks. 

"Piss the fuck off, twat."

The knocking ends. 

* * *

An hour later, Tangerine has you sitting on Lemon and Liv's kitchen counter as they clean up from the party. He hands you some water as he rolls up his sleeves. One of his hands finds your thigh and he rubs it soothingly. You look up at him from behind your glass, unable to resist the question.  

"Is there something wrong with me?"

Tangerine's forehead pinches and pulls his hand away so he can cup your cheeks instead. He stands in between your legs, his eyes level with yours as they search your features. "Pardon? Say that again."

"What does she have that I don't? Is she prettier than me? Does she have a better body? I- I want to be wanted like her," you sniffle, your words slurred as you're still very intoxicated no matter how much water you've drank. Your cheeks are damp from your tears. "Why does she take every man I like? Why did she take you from me when I loved you damn so much?"

Tangerine's heart leaps at your words. "Loved me?" he repeats, his thumb caressing your cheek.

You nod and look into his eyes. "Love," you admit, "For years—and it never stops either and I tried. I tried, Tan."

You sound so sad.

His hand shakes on your cheek and for a moment you think he's leaning in to kiss you as your eyes flutter, but instead, he crushes you into a hug. You relax in his arms, shutting your eyes fully as you whimper and the sound hits him hard. 

He'd been such an idiot. 

"I would kiss ya," he whispers, sounding sincere, "I'd kiss ya if ya weren't so damn drunk."

You're speechless. 

Liv walks in, holding an armful of paper towels with Lemon on her heels. She smiles when Tangerine shifts away from you, clearing his throat, and you try to look busy, your head spinning from Tangerine's previous words. Lemon raises an eyebrow at his brother and Tangerine communicates with his eyes. Lemon chuckles.

"G'night, lovebirds," he grins as Liv puts away the paper towels and smirks too, slapping Lemon's arm playfully.

Tangerine's cheeks burn crimson all the way up to his ears. 

Once they're gone he turns his attention to you again, looking at you fondly. "I've been a real fuckin' prick, haven't I?" he says and pushes some hair behind your ear. "Lookin' at 'er, when what I wanted was right here in front of me this whole damn time."

You blink at him, his words sinking in but you're too drunk to comprehend. 

Tangerine kisses your forehead. "I'll make it up to you," he says, his chest filling with warmth. It's a promise. One he keeps because when you wake up in Lemon's guest room, Tangerine walks in shirtless with a breakfast tray full of an assortment of toast, beans, and eggs. 

"Monrin' love," he says. He's wearing that familiar smile. A peaceful, happy, smile. The one you haven't seen him wear in a while. 

Damn does it look good on him.     

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

PUT IT ON THE PLASTIC. 18+

tangerine x fem!reader — smut

summary. “the more you spend, the sweeter I fuck you tonight” prompt. requested here by @burneraccountbutiactivelyuseit tangerine wants to buy something for you, but you won’t let him. his offer changes your mind

word count. 1234

warnings. 18+ only! cunnilingus, pinv sex. tan being softly dominant and assertive (aka his best traits) minors dni

made the gif myself, that’s so embarrassing. that’s also why it looks like shit

Spending money isn’t something that comes naturally to you, especially when that said money is coming from the pocket of another. 

Earlier today, you and Tangerine began the quest of shopping – his one goal in mind to treat you. But as the hours pass and the list of available stores grows shorter, your hands are yet to be filled with luxury bags. 

You just didn’t want to spend his money, despite his persistent offerings.

“What about this one?” Tangerine asks from your right, nodding to the fancy shop up ahead. He was clearly exhausted from battling you and being on his feet all day, but he never let that show. He was too busy trying to get you to buy something. “Looks nice in there, no?”

“I don’t know,” you turn to look at him, face contorting in uncertainty. “I’m fine just getting a pretzel and going home.”

He shakes his head sternly. “That ain’t happening,” his palm slips from the small of your back and into your hand, his slight grip steering you into the luxury, high end store. “Let’s just have a little browse around, hm?”

This particular department store was far beyond the others you had stepped inside today – four internal floors filled with bedding, clothes, makeup, you name it. It had everything and it made those other rich, fancy shops look like shit.

“Right, where we going?” he asks, leading you towards the escalator – stepping on first, hand held tight onto yours as he helps you on. He steps down one so he’s behind to your side, his knee bending by yours like he was enclosing you – keeping you safe. “What do you fancy?

That same question he’s asked copious times today – what did you want?

You take a moment, trying to think of the cheapest thing you could buy to get him off your back. The thought of kitchen utensils coming to mind.

“We need a new spatula,” you suggest, looking over your shoulder to him.

“That’s need. Not want. That’s not the same,” he shakes his head at you. “What about some new shoes? A bag?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

“That’s a lie.”

You reach the next floor, and each of you step off – this floor just as extravagant as the one below, maybe even more so. 

He had been hounding you all day to buy something, that by now you were so fed up with shopping. And so, to put yourselves out of the inevitable misery, you guide him over to the rails of clothing and pick out the first thing you see. 

“I want this,” you lie, holding up a skirt that’s far from what you’d usually wear.

His head cocks to the side, eyes narrowing at you for a brief moment before they follow his hands – reaching into his pocket. He pulls out his wallet and steps closer to you, closing the distance. 

“Got a proposition,” he starts, and places his bank card below your chin – hooking it under to lift your face, making you look at him. “The more you spend,” he pauses, leaning in closer to speak against your lips. “The sweeter I fuck you when we get back.”

Your breath hitches at the thought, a small almost gasp muffling into his mouth.

“That’s right,” he smiles ever so faintly against you. He pulls back and picks up your hand, placing his card in the centre of it – wrapping your fingers over the piece of plastic. “What’s mine is yours. Now, knock yourself out, love.”

Before long, you had made up for the whole day of missed purchases, maxing out the transaction limit at the checkout. Filling your hands with bags like he so desperately wanted at the beginning – though, you weren’t allowed to carry them. That was his job.

You held up your end of the deal, now it was his turn.

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Tangerine had you flat on the bed, your knees spread wide to accustom his broad shoulders. His face slotted between the inners of your thighs, tongue lapping leisurely at your cunt as if to prep you further for what's to come. 

He had been at it a while, making out with your pussy, kissing and loving on you in the way you deserved after your long, laborious day of shopping. 

The utter messy, wet state he had made of you purely from his mouth was all evidence of his care. All proof of his attentive nature.

He pulls away from between your thighs, his moustache and chin slick with everything he’s coaxed from you within your multiple orgasms. Placing a final kiss to your clit, he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and sits – adjusting on his knees between your legs.

Thick, large hand reaches into his boxers – his palm wrapping tight around his cock as he pulls it out over the waistband. He gives himself a few precautionary pumps, being careful not to blow his load there and then. Lining his dick with you, he swirls his head around your entrance, circling over your already sensitive cunt. 

He rests the heavy weight of his cock against you as he moves position, leaning over your bare body below, hovering over you in the way you always liked.

“Picked out a lot today,” he whispers to your ear, speaking low and hushed as he guides himself into you – using the tip as a plug almost, letting you accommodate him. “Weren’t so hard now, was it?” he teases, pressing a kiss to the patch of skin below the lobe.

“Thank you,” you murmur, voice wavering –nearing on straining– when he sinks further into you, the feel of him literally knocking the air from your lungs. You loosely wrap your legs around his lower back, ankles hooking at his sides as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. “For today,” you add, words muffling into his skin. “I really appreciate it.”

He knew you were. You were always so grateful for anything he did for you. Maybe that’s why he loved doing things for you, loved taking care of you – it was always clear of how much it meant. 

“I know,” he hums, littering the length of your neck in soft, fluttery kisses. “You deserve it.”

And as those gentle, loving words leave his lips, he forcefully sinks the rest of himself into you – snatching a deep, breathy moan from the pits of your stomach. Like the act was so juxtaposing to his prior tender confession, that it almost undid his kind words.

He parts from the warmth of your neck, in which you do the same – mirroring his movements. Straightening his neck, he looks down at you below, watching those pretty, tiny microexpressions form across your features: knitted brows, soft eyes, parted lips. All of it ever so truly beautiful.

He bucks his hips experimentally, fucking into you for a brief, rough stroke, and when he sees that face, your face – he knew that’s what you wanted. But he doesn’t give it to you like that just yet, he’d never last. 

So for now, he keeps that same steady pace, cock slowly sliding in and out of you, his face mere inches from yours as if to close any distance. Swallowing each other’s moans and sounds, his hand clasped tightly to the side of your face – keeping you there to never part from your gaze.

so not okay I want him so bad

[daenysx]

tangerine x fem!reader, fluff/comfort ♡

-tangerine has this habit of crawling back to you.

cw; soft!tangerine, this man yearns and he's not ashamed of that, tangerine being a bit dramatic, exes to lovers (?), title is from do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, kissing many many times, my first time writing for him- please let me know what you think

wc; 1.5k

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU

It's not healthy to do this every night, is it?

No, because Tangerine doesn't know how to stop and it bothers him. It bothers him more than Lemon's insistent talks about Thomas the Tank Engine, so this is serious. He's a strong man, but- you sigh in content and he's glad to be witnessing this.

He really should stop watching you sleep.

You look peaceful like this. Happy, blissfully unconscious. Your pretty lips let out tiny breaths and he swears he will collapse. Something squeezes his poor heart. He wants to be closer, you look warm but are you really warm? He wants to drag his fingers on your skin, to touch you like he used to. Stained fingers, red with blood. He washed them before coming here, but it doesn't matter. He'll never be pure enough to touch you.

"Pretty girl," he whispers in the dark. You don't hear him. He gets encouraged by that.

He takes a hesitant step towards your bed.

"Look at you, sleeping so deep," Tangerine whispers again. "Always in peace when I'm not here, aren't you?"

Technically he is here, but you don't know that, and that's all he cares. He doesn't try to be a creep, he's just in love. He swears this is the only reason why he keeps coming back to his ex's apartment. He promises this is the only reason why he lies to his brother as he crawls back to you.

His fingers ache to reach out and touch you.

If he could be a better man, he'd be in your arms right now. He'd be kissing your collarbones and his rings would collide nicely with the soft fabric of your tank top. He's a coward, really. He's glad you're the only one who knows this side of him. It would be terrible for his job options otherwise.

You take another breath. Tangerine watches the softness of your cheeks move when you curl your lips in your sleep. You must be dreaming. He hopes you see him being good for you in your dream. Being the man he never could be in reality.

He really should stop using the keys you gave him months ago.

"I wish I could be-" he starts saying some stupid shit again. Oh, come on. He rolls his eyes at himself. "Pathetic. I'm being pathetic."

"You really are," you turn to your side. Fuck. Tangerine flinches.

"Wha- Fuck me-" he takes a step back. You were sleeping two seconds ago. He's shy all of a sudden as if he's not the man who keeps coming back to his ex after breaking up with her by saying 'you deserve better, love'.

You blink, looking so exhausted as you do that. Leaning on your elbows, you look up to him. His hair is messed up, his blue eyes are wide open. It's a good look on him. Objectively.

"You really did think I wasn't aware of you coming back here every night, didn't you?"

"Um- then why did you-"

"You really are being pathetic, Tangerine," you say. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, of course not-"

"I know you still have the keys," you say. "I knew you'd use them at some point, you never offered to give them back."

Tangerine finally manages to close his mouth. Clever girl, aren't you? He feels poorly, now that he can't call you his.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks.

You blink a few times. "I waited for you to say something first."

"Sorry to disappoint, love," he says, genuine this time. "I've been acting too cowardly around you."

You sigh, you really want to sleep. You wish he could just stop with this pity party and come to bed. Silent promises ring in your head, you want him back. He kept saying he's doing it for you, breaking up because he doesn't want you to get hurt. He swears even telling you what he does for living was the toughest shit he'd ever gone through. Who wants a guy like him anyway?

"Will you please- come here? Let's just talk about this in the morning, I'm so tired."

He blinks a few times. You have a death wish, don't you? Why the hell would you want him to get close if you don't?

"It's 'cause I know you still love me," you answer. Shit, he asked it out loud. "I know you're trying to make a stupid decision for both of us, still, but tonight I want none of that. Come here."

You pat the empty spot next to you and Tangerine obeys. He has no choice, his entire body feels like it's on fire with the distance between you. He takes off his suit jacket, lets himself be bare in front of you just like how you always want him. No unnecessary clothes in bed, you once said. I want to know you're here.

He lies next to you hesitantly. For a brave man, he's acting pretty fearful tonight. You wrap your arm around his chest, your fingers touch his skin as you draw a small circle right there.

Tangerine takes a breath. It's good, being here. He finally feels like he's where he belongs. You snuggle closer to him, always the bold one in the relationship. Many would expect it to be different, he knows, but he feels entirely yours and this is something he can't explain. He'd let you do anything you want, if you want to cuddle him, kiss him in public, or snuggle to his chest like a cat, so be it. He wraps an arm around you.

"Oh," he breathes. You smell wonderful. "My girl."

Fuck, he missed this. He melts right there, how can he be stupid enough to let you go? He turns to his side to hold you better, you put your head to the curve of his neck. His cologne hits you like an old memory, but that's nonsense. You never let him go.

"Missed this," he says. "Missed you."

"You're an idiot."

"That's what I am."

You tangle your legs with his, he kisses his way on your neck all the way to your shoulder. You close your eyes, let yourself be okay now that he's here. He can finally admit that he never left, he couldn't do that if he tried. He yearns for this, for every bit of affection he can have.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He doesn't think he can wait until the morning to tell you this. You must know how sorry he is for even trying to go out of your life, how desperate he's been since the day he told you he wants to break up. How angry he made Lemon (even Lemon) because he's been a restless bastard and he doesn't even know what he's doing. "I'm so sorry."

You lift your head to see his eyes. Under the soft moonlight in your room, they sparkle. Just a deep blue, you've always loved his eyes. He's genuine and he's only a man. He looks like he can beg for forgiveness on his knees.

"It's okay," you say gently. No need for arguments, the bed is warm and he's here. You'll find the right time to talk about this. For now, though, you choose to put your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Tangerine kisses your head. You like having shower before bed and he can smell your shampoo. He holds your hand under the covers and slides his hips to get closer to you. The pillows are soft and inviting beneath his head, he closes his eyes.

"Will you stay for breakfast?" you ask. He can stay forever if you want. Fuck, yearning turned him into a fucking romantic.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks instead.

"Yes," you reply, getting closer to his pulse point. You put a small kiss on the tiny spot under his ear. He lets out a quiet hiss when you bite there playfully.

"Or maybe I should crawl back here with flowers in my hand," he says, adjusting his neck to give you more space to kiss. He can feel you smile against him.

"You really should," you tell him. "Later. Not tomorrow."

Your sound unsure. Hesitant with your loving as if he scared you. He did, though, didn't he? Tangerine is a man of sin and he really needs to atone for some of them.

"I'm not gonna leave," he promises. "Not again."

You nod, his loving girl. You could give him hell, but you're exhausted. He tightens his arm around you and lets you settle down on him.

Your breath is nice to feel against his neck. Tangerine relaxes. You fall asleep in the next minute or so, he isn't sure when. He just knows that this feels like home, and he'd been the biggest fool in the history for trying to leave it as if he actually could. He has to get you those flowers just as soon as he can.

[j23r23]

That's my wife!

tangerine x wife reader

Waring: Violence and Fluff

BTW: Thank you @little-miss-dilf-lover for being my muse and making me write again 🍊🫶🏻🧡

Tangerine had never been one to keep his temper in check, especially when it came to you. The two of you had been in far worse situations, but today was different. The local police force had no idea who they were dealing with, and it didn’t help that they were handling you both like a pair of thugs.

The officer shoving you into the back of the police car had already crossed a line, his grip too tight, his attitude too arrogant and his hands touching you. But when the other one got rough with you, pushing you toward the vehicle with far more force than necessary and making you trip, something snapped in Tangerine.

“Oi, that’s my wife!” His voice cut through the commotion like a knife, fury lacing every word. Before anyone could react, he lunged forward, headbutting the cop who’d been forcing him into the car. The crack of bone against bone was unmistakable, and the officer staggered back, blood pouring from his nose.

Tangerine didn’t stop there. He turned with a wild intensity in his eyes, his curly hair disheveled, one strand falling across his forehead, giving him a feral look. With his hands cuffed behind his back, he couldn’t do much, but that didn’t stop him. He barreled toward the cop who’d been rough with you, and with another fierce headbutt, sent him sprawling to the ground, clutching his face in pain.

Blood now dripped down Tangerine’s forehead, his hair a mess of curls and sweat. He sniffed, a drop of blood running down to his upper lip before he spit, his saliva tinged with red, at the cop writhing on the pavement. There was a terrifying calmness about him as he turned to you, the fiery rage melting into something softer, more tender.

“You alright, love?” he asked, his voice gentle, as if he hadn’t just taken down two cops with nothing but his head. His eyes searched yours, worry etched in every line of his face.

Before you could respond, the other officers started to move in, their shouts filling the air as they surrounded the two of you. But in that moment, all that mattered was Tangerine. Despite the chaos, despite the fact that your hands were cuffed behind your backs, you stepped closer to him. He leand in as close as he could, and you buried your face in his chest, feeling the warmth of his body on your cheek. His chin rested on top of your head, his breath coming in soft, reassuring huffs.

“I’m alright,” you murmured into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

His kissed the top of your head, as if reassuring himself that you were really there, that you were safe. You look up wanting to kiss away his worry.

Just as your lips were about to brush his, the moment shattered. Rough hands yanked you backward, pulling you away from Tangerine before you could taste his lips. The separation was brutal the world that had narrowed to just the two of you expanded back out into chaos.

His eyes widened in fury as you were torn apart from eachother, and before either of you could protest, a cop shoved him roughly toward a separate squad car.

“Tangerine!” you called out, your voice cracking with desperation as he was pulled away. But before his name fully left your lips, a hand clamped down on your arm, yanking you back so brutally it felt like your shoulder might tear from its socket.

The violent pull sent you stumbling, nearly crashing to the ground. The cop jerked you upright, twisting your arm more with such force that pain shot through your entire body.

"Get the fuck off of her!" Tangerine roared, thrashing against the officers holding him, as he tried to get back to you. But they were too many now, and even he couldn’t fight them all off with his hands cuffed. You struggled too, your heart pounding in your chest, the grip on your arms unyielding, forcing you further away from him.

The last thing you saw before they shoved you into the back of a squad car was Tangerine being kicked into another vehicle, his eyes locked on yours with a look that promised he wouldn’t stop fighting until he got back to you. But then the door slammed shut, cutting off your view. The cold metal of the cuffs dug into your wrists as the car pulled away, the flashing lights reflecting off the windows as the city streets blurred by.

Your mind was spinning, back to Tangerine. You could only imagine what he was going through in the other car, his fury probably pushing him to the brink. You hoped he wouldn’t do anything too reckless—though, knowing him, that was probably a lost cause.

When you finally arrived at the precinct, they dragged you out of the car, your shoulder aching from the rough treatment. You were led through the fluorescent-lit corridors, the sound of your footsteps echoing against the linoleum floor. The air thick with the scent of sweat and cheap coffee. The officers, still on edge from Tangerine’s outburst, were rough as they took your fingerprints, mugshot and your personal belongings.

They put you in a holding cell, the bars cold and unwelcoming as they locked you inside. As you paced the small space, minutes felt like hours as you waited, your heart thudding with every creak of the building around you.

Then, finally, you heard a familiar voice outside the cell.

“What the hell have you two gotten yourselves into this time?”

Lemon’s tone was half exasperated, half amused, though there was an underlying concern that warmed you just a bit. A moment later, the door swung open, and there he was, looking far too calm for someone about to bail his brother and sister-in-law out of jail. His bright yellow jacket stood out starkly against the drab surroundings, like a ray of misplaced sunshine.

Lemon's exasperation clear on his face as he surveyed the mess that was your situation. His eyes softened when they landed on you, taking in the bruises forming on your arms and wrists.

“Alright, let’s get you out of here,” he sighed, pulling some strings with the Sergeant and sliding a few bills across the counter.

“They’re releasing him now,” Lemon said as he guided you out of the cell. “You’re lucky I got here when I did. Tangerine was about to start a riot in his cell...”

You followed Lemon through the station, the tension in your chest easing with each step. When you reached the front desk, you saw Tangerine standing there, still cuffed but very much alive, a bandage hastily slapped across his forehead and his shirt stained with dried blood. His curls even more disheveled than before, but you’d never been happier to see him.

“Lemon, about time, mate,” Tangerine grumbled, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, yeah, save it for later,” Lemon replied, rolling his eyes but clearly glad to see his brother in one piece. “You two are bloody hopeless, you know that?”

Tangerine ignored the jab. The moment his eyes met yours, his entire demeanor softened. He jerked his arms, clearly eager to get to you, but the officer behind the desk held onto his cuffs until the last possible second, as if hoping for one more reason to keep him locked up.

Finally, though, the metal restraints fell away, and Tangerine was free. He crossed the distance between you in a few quick strides. Without a word, he pulled you into his arms. He held you tight, like he’d never let go again, his lips brushing the top of your head in a silent promise.

“You alright?” he murmured, repeating the question he’d asked before everything went sideways.

“Now I am,” you whispered back, leaning into him as much as you could.

Lemon cleared his throat, making a show of looking anywhere but at the two of you. “Right, well, let’s get out of here before these idiots change their minds. We’ll deal with this mess later.”

With Lemon leading the way, you and Tangerine made your way out of the precinct, your fingers holding his as you walked side by side. As Tangerine pulled you closer, his arm slung protectively around your shoulders.

The cool night air hit your face as you stepped outside, the city buzzing around you as if nothing had happened.

[vilentia]

Hey just wondering if you still write for tangerine? If you do I was hoping you’d write one about tangerine having to most sweetest and kindest wife and everyone always wondering how could she marry a big grump like him? Like tangerine is on a job and he’s due back in a few days and these men have been sent to kidnap his wife and she sees them infront of her house and goes out asking if they are lost and invites them inside for some tea and makes them lunch and they end up leaving without her because of how sweet she was and tangerine comes back recognising the men leaving the house and his wife waving goodbye to them lol if that makes sense thank you

Disarmed by Kindness

Tangerine x reader

Found this in my requests and finally felt inspired enough to write something. Sorry for the long wait and I hope it was worth it. 🫣

Tangerine wiped the sweat off his brow as he stood on the rooftop, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. His job was nearly done. Just a few more days, and he’d be back home, where things were different—where he wasn’t just Tangerine the assassin, but your husband, the man who couldn’t figure out why someone as sweet as you would ever marry a grump like him.

His thoughts drifted to you: your warm smile, gentle hands, and that voice of yours that could soothe him even on his worst days. Every time someone learned that you were his wife, their brows would furrow, and their lips would purse in confusion. How could someone so kind, so impossibly good-hearted, be married to someone like him? It was a mystery that followed you both everywhere, but one that neither of you cared to solve. You fit together in a way that made sense only to you.

Meanwhile, back at your cozy home, you hummed a tune as you prepared some fresh lemonade. You had just finished baking a batch of lemon tarts, knowing they were his favorite, even though he always pretended to prefer more "manly" desserts. He’d be back soon, and you couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he bit into one of the tarts.

As you set the table for lunch, you noticed a group of men lingering just beyond the front gate. They were tough-looking, with hard expressions and eyes that flickered with suspicion. Your heart skipped a beat, but only out of concern that they might be lost or in need of help. You quickly slipped on your apron and stepped outside, your bright smile leading the way.

“Hello there!” you called out, waving as you approached. The men, all too familiar with violence and the rougher side of life, were caught off guard by the sight of you—a small, smiling woman heading straight for them.

One of the men, clearly the leader, cleared his throat and put on his best menacing face. “Ma’am, we… uh… we’re looking for someone.”

“Well, you found me!” you beamed. “But I’m afraid you might be mistaken about who you’re looking for. Are you lost? Why don’t you come inside for some tea? I’ve just baked some lemon tarts, and they’re still warm.”

The men exchanged confused glances. This wasn’t how these things usually went. But something about you—your warmth, your kindness—disarmed them completely. Before they knew it, they were nodding and following you into the house, each one feeling more out of place than the last.

Inside, you bustled around the kitchen, brewing tea, slicing tarts, and setting out an array of sandwiches you had planned to eat alone. The men sat around the table, their bulky forms hunched awkwardly over the delicate teacups you handed them.

“So, who is it you’re looking for?” you asked sweetly as you poured them more tea.

The leader, struggling to remember why they were there in the first place, muttered, “We were sent to… uh… collect someone important.”

“Oh dear, I hope it’s nothing serious. You know, my husband is due back any day now. He’s such a dear, but I do worry about him when he’s away.” You sighed softly, the picture of a concerned wife.

The men felt a pang of guilt they weren’t accustomed to. They looked around at the cozy house, the floral curtains, the homemade meal. How could they possibly harm you or take you away? You were like a ray of sunshine, and they were nothing but storm clouds.

As they finished their tea, you packed up the remaining tarts into a neat little box and handed it to the leader. “For the road,” you said with a smile. “I wouldn’t want you going hungry.”

The men, now thoroughly confused and utterly charmed, left the house without so much as a harsh word. As they walked down the driveway, they glanced back to see you waving them off, your smile as bright as ever.

Just as they reached the street, Tangerine’s car pulled up. He stepped out, eyes narrowing as he recognized the men from a job he’d finished the week before. His hand instinctively moved toward the gun under his coat, but he stopped short when he saw you at the door, waving at the men with that sweet smile of yours.

The leader of the group met Tangerine’s gaze, and for a moment, it seemed like things could go south. But then the man raised the box of tarts, nodded once, and muttered, “You’ve got a good one there, mate.” And with that, they left, the mission completely forgotten.

Tangerine watched them go, then turned to you, who had already started fussing over him. “You’re back early! I didn’t even get a chance to make your favorite dinner yet,” you said, pulling him inside.

“What were those men doing here?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

“Oh, them? Just some lost souls looking for directions, I think. They seemed nice enough once you got to know them,” you said, dismissing the incident with a wave.

Tangerine couldn’t help but smirk. Of course, you had no idea who they really were or what they had intended to do. You saw the good in everyone, even those who didn’t deserve it. And somehow, that goodness had protected you.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You looked up at him, your eyes full of warmth and love. “And you’re my grumpy bear. Now, come on, I’ve got lemon tarts.”

As you sat down to eat, Tangerine couldn’t shake the image of those hardened men walking away from your house, a box of tarts in hand, thoroughly disarmed by the woman he loved. You had a way of softening even the hardest of hearts, and in that moment, he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

No one would ever understand how you worked together, but that was fine. As long as you had each other, Tangerine knew he’d always have a reason to come home, no matter how tough the job.

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

No Way Out

Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Escaping Tangerine was never an option.

WARNING: Implied Kidnapping.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

I dug this out of nowhere to feed to Tangerine fandom. Probably one of my lasts drafts about him :(

--

“Love…don’t you fuckin’ dare.” 

You swallow hard, fear building in your throat as Tangerine appears in the room, stiffly standing near the door. 

The gun threatens to slip from your sweaty grip and you increase the pressure, struggling to keep your hand steady despite the very obvious tremor.

It's not like you know how to use the revolver that you somehow managed to find in one of Tangerine's office drawers, but you thought you could use it to get out of this unwanted situation.

“Give me the keys and I won’t shoot.” your attempt to have an authoritative voice fails miserably, both you and Tangerine realizing your terrified state.

“Y/N, darlin’…” He takes a cautious step forward, approaching you and you sniff, terror flooding you.

“Please! Please, give me the keys…” you beg, taking a few steps behind until you bump into the kitchen aisle, trapped between the furniture and Tangerine.

You panic as he keeps moving forward in your direction. 

“Stop! Just stop moving or…. or I swear I’ll shoot.”  

“Listen, love, how about we talk this through’, yeah?” he raises his hands in the air, assuring that he wasn't going to try anything but you still keep the gun pointed at him.

“That’s a fully loaded gun, love, you can seriously hurt yourself with it and we don’t want that, do we?”

Tangerine takes another small step towards you as you shake your head, tears blurring your vision and your hand slightly lowers. 

“I just wanna go home.” you sob, shoulders shaking.

Your blurry eyes makes you miss the small step he takes towards you, his cheek twitching with anticipation. 

“I know, love, but this is your home now.” his voice is smooth and calm, placating you and you look at him, eyes begging him. 

“Please…”

“You’re not leavin’ this house, love, you know that.” his confidence scares you and he extends his hand, nodding towards the gun. “So why don’t you gimme' me that gun and I promise I won’t get mad, how ‘bout that?”

You don’t reply and Tangerine sighs. 

“Cause did ya know that the door also needs a finger print scan to open up, right?”

Your eyes dart towards the robust front door, already protected with several locks whose keys you still don't have.

Big mistake. 

By the time you realize that there is no scanner, it’s too late. Tangerine lunges forwards and next thing you know, you're pinned down between the counter and his body. 

You cry out as he expertly twists your wrist, taking the gun away from you, carelessly throwing it to the floor.

His anger is visible as he roughly turns you around, slamming you face down on the counter, pressing his lips to your ear. 

“Looks like you’re in a big fuckin’ trouble, love.” 

[gh0stsp1d3r]

You know, Tangerine would absolutely love having an innocent gf that he can be all protective of, he’s an assassin but we all know he’s secretly a big ol softie that wants to be loved and is touch starved 🥹 Like he’d so love that she feels safe with him and he would end anyone who so much as made her cry🥹

sorry for responding so late babes! but YES. 🥹

˚｡⋆୨୧˚ tangerine is such a protective mf, and I feel like he likes that balance of having someone to protect and love outside of his job <3

˚｡⋆୨୧˚ he takes protecting you/taking care of you very seriously. you do everything else for him, let him do this for you kinda deal! he adores you, and he wants you to be as comfy and happy as you could be.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚ he lovessss his gf because like you said, he loves the attention and care that you give him when no one else (‘cept lemon ofc) has given him such love.

˚｡⋆୨୧˚ it’s shocking to him how much he longs for your touch when he’s away. because he was so hesitant for you to even touch him at first, hesitant to let you love him. But after time, it got better, and he was shocked at how much he missed it all when he had to leave! man’s never realized just how touch starved he was

[padsmoony04]

[eternalslover]

Bullet train incorrect quotes:

Lemon: It’s times like this that I wish I listened to Tangerine

Y/N: Why? What’d he say?

Lemon: I don’t know, I wasn’t listening

[msmk11]

hi lovely!!

okay okay you know i'm IN LOVE with your Tangerine writings and i'm in big need of some good Tan hurt and comfort 😋😚 so if this is okay, the premise of my request is Tan being super aloof and seemingly uninterested in reader, like borderline mean, but the moment another dude shows an interest or she's in danger, he goes insane. like fully does anything to protect her and keep her as his!!

obviously feel free to ignore this if no inspiration strikes 🫶 sending my love! also no rush if you do think you wanna write it!

More Than I Should

Tangerine x fem!reader

WC: 3.4k

CW: drinking, partying

A/n: Hello my lovely Sky! Thank you SO much for requesting my dear. I don’t think I went as heavy on the tension as I could’ve, but I just think he’s such a big softie for reader that it’s hard!! I hope you enjoy and that it lives up to your expectations!!

“Well, well, if it isn’t my two favorite assassins.”

Tangerine and Lemon look up at you from their seats at the bar, mild surprise crossing their faces.

“Didn’t fancy you two to be people who spent their Fridays at a pub.”

Lemon snorts, “I reckon my bruv’s not, but I am. Love to people watch.”

You smile faintly at Tangerine, polite but detached. It’s not to say that you’re uninterested in the mysterious mustached man, but rather he’s always been aloof towards you.

“Alright Tangerine?”

He nods, “good as I can be.”

Lemon looks you over, eyeing your slightly more revealing clothes- fit for a night on the town, “and what are you up to?”

Across the room is a small group of your friends from university, sitting around a table picking at appetizers, “going out with some friends tonight. Reckon I need to let off some steam after all these jobs I’ve been put on.”

He chuckles, “I feel ya.”

“Well I uh, just thought I’d say hello. But I’m sure I’ll see you later?”

Tangerine gives you a neutral nod and Lemon fist bumps you before you turn and head back over to your friends, joining in on their rowdiness.

“Who were you talking to,” your old roommate, Sarah, slurs.

You wave her off, “just two coworkers.”

“So you just forgot to mention that you work with the sexiest men alive,” she replies, ogling Tangerine and Lemon equally, “Are they available?”

You nearly choke on your drink and Tyler, who is sitting to your right, pats you on the back.

“The fuck if I know,” you cough out, “I like to keep things professional, thank you very much.”

“Thank god they’re not my coworkers,” Natalie, who is across from you, adds, “I’d like to do some very unprofessional things to them.”

You groan and chug the rest of your vodka cran, “I’m gonna need a lot more drinks to deal with these two.”

Tyler agrees and hands you his card, “go get us some shots?”

The smooth plastic presses against your palm as Tyler places the silver card into your hand. You nod and kiss him on the cheek, promising to return soon. As the night has carried on, the crowd has only thickened, and you have to use your elbows to push through the swarm of people.

When you reach the other side of the room you call out to a bartender who is available and give her your order. Before you can hand over Tyler’s card, however, a voice interrupts you.

“Give me four more shots will ya. And put them on my tab.”

Tangerine stands next to you, a firm look on his face as you glance at him.

“Trying to steal my drinks?”

You swear a slight smirk plays on his lips.

“Just being friendly.”

A grin breaks out on your face, “I didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary. But anyways, thanks. Although I suppose Tyler should really be the one to thank you. He was supposed to pay.”

The brunette’s eyes flick across the room to your group of friends, “Is he your boyfriend?”

“Tyler?” You laugh, “no way. He’s just a friend from school. Why do you wanna know?”

“Well, usually, if a man pays for a girl’s drinks voluntarily, he likes her.”

“But you paid for-“

You’re cut off, however, when the bartender returns with your shots in hand. You balance the tiny glasses between your fingers, hoping the sticky drinks don’t spill on your way back to your seat.

“Wanna join us?” You ask Tangerine.

“Suppose I don’t have a choice, seeing as Lem has already been kidnapped by your friends.”

Sure enough, Lemon has been crammed into the booth between Sarah and Natalie, the two of them fawning over him. Not that he seems to mind much.

“Jesus Christ,” you curse, pushing back through the crowd.

Tangerine follows behind you to the table, his and Lemon’s shots in his hands. You set the glasses down in relief when you arrive and pull Tyler’s card from your pocket, returning it to him.

“I see you’ve made some friends, Lemon,” you smirk, before giving a warning glance to Sarah and Natalie.

“He looked so lonely!” Natalie protests, “we couldn’t leave him alone!”

“I think he would’ve survived,” you say, rolling your eyes, “But alas. I think proper introductions are in order. Everyone, these are my coworkers Tangerine and Lemon. Tangerine and Lem, these are my friends Tyler, Sarah, Natalie, and Chris.”

They all exchange polite greetings, though Sarah’s are more friendly and Tangerine’s less so. You move to slide into the booth next to Tyler but freeze. There’s only one spot left on the bench but two people to fit in. And it seems there are no extra chairs in sight.

“Oh this is gonna be a problem…” you murmur.

“You can just sit on my lap, if you want,” Tyler offers.

“That’s not necessary. I can just squeeze in on the edge,” Tangerine offers gruffly.

You shake your head, “No, no, I will. I invited you over. It’s not a problem, really.”

The brunette attempts to protest but you resist, gently pushing him into the seat. You slide onto the edge next to him, your arms squished together. You shuffle a little, trying to get comfortable.

“Here.”

Tangerine carefully lifts his arm up and wraps it around your shoulders, giving you more room on the seat while tucked into his side.

“Better?”

His lips are close to your ear and his gaze intent, and you can’t help but shudder a little.

“Better.”

He nods and looks away from you, his attention caught by the incessant questions pouring from Tyler and Chris’ mouths.

Lemon is similarly preoccupied with Sarah, but Natalie is staring straight at you, her eyes flitting excitedly between you and Tangerine.

‘Oh my god!’ She mouths.

You stare at her, perplexed.

‘He totally likes you!’

You almost snort, her suggestion so preposterous you can’t help but laugh.

‘No way,’ you mouth back ‘he barely talks to me at work, let alone like me.’

Natalie only huffs, rolling her eyes, ‘you’re in denial.’

You scoff and shake your head, picking up a shot and throwing it back. You tune into the conversations happening next to you, but the constant warmth of Tangerine at your side distracts you more than you’d like to admit.

*****

A chill night at the pub has quickly turned into full on rallying, your hoard of misfits stumbling from bar to bar in search of drinks and maybe someone to warm their bed on this chilly night.

Unsurprisingly, Lemon has joined in with the chaos. Surprisingly, Tangerine has too- though he doesn’t seem all that happy about it. You don’t mind his mood, not really. It’s a little endearing, frankly. And anyhow, you’re used to it. It’s just funny to see in the current setting. The club is full of raging, drunk idiots, your friends included and yourself on the precipice. Yet, amongst it all is Tangerine- sober, stoic, and commanding.

Throughout the evening Sarah and Lemon have paired up as well as Natalie and Chris- and you pray the latter doesn’t make things messy again. This leaves you sandwiched between Tyler and Tangerine, the two remarkably opposite yet their attentions both fixed on you.

Loud bass thumps throughout the room and you jump along, your feet just slightly sticking to the sticky floor beneath you. Tyler is singing and dancing along with you, but you haven’t quite been able to convince Tangerine to do the same.

The former grabs your hand and spins you around. It forces a giggle past your lips but also makes you dizzy. You stumble out of the spin and the floor comes rushing towards you. You brace for impact, but it never comes. Instead, a pair of hands grab your waist, stopping your descent. They pull you up gently and turn you around. It’s Tangerine.

“Careful there.”

You chuckle nervously, “lost my footing. Maybe spinning and alcohol isn’t such a good combo.”

His mustache twitches and he hums in agreement, “maybe not.”

“You okay, love?” Tyler asks, tapping you on the shoulder.

Tangerine’s grip on your waist tightens barely, the action almost unnoticeable it’s so subtle. You’d gasp if it wasn’t in Tyler’s line of vision.

“Hmm yeah, fine. Just lost my footing.”

“Maybe I should hold onto you tighter,” he chuckles with a wink.

Tangerine’s grip tightens again, but this time it’s far from subtle. You look back at him, your brows furrowed in confusion, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s staring at Tyler, something dark and dangerous brewing behind his blue eyes. It’s a look you’ve seen before, in the field. A murderous one. You don’t know what it’s all about, but you don’t bother to ask. You respond to Tyler with a halfhearted giggle before moving to diffuse the tension.

“I love this song,” you cheer enthusiastically. You remove Tangerine’s hands from your waist and grab them with your own, “lighten up and dance with me, Tan.”

His eyes dart back to you and he grimaces. You only give him a warning glare to keep it together and he sighs, giving in. Tangerine dances, but stiffly. He lacks any real rhythm or fluidity, and you can’t help the giggle that escapes.

“What’s funny?” He huffs, squinting at you.

“N-nothing, nothing.”

You bust out laughing and he freezes.

“You fucking laughing at me?”

He doesn’t look angry, not really, but disbelieving.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You- don’t know how to dance, do you?”

Tangerine huffs and looks around before looking over your head at Tyler. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his credit card, “get us some drinks, will ya? On me.”

“What?” Tyler asks, scoffing a little.

“Get us some drinks, mate, yeah?”

Tyler scoffs again, “I can pay myself I-“

“Tyler, take the free drinks,” you warn.

‘Please’ you mouth.

He sighs and takes Tangerine’s card bitterly before stalking off towards the bar. Your eyes follow him out of sight, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. You’re too distracted to notice that the brunette has fully refocused his attention on you. He grips your waist suddenly and pulls you flush against him. This time, you do gasp audibly. Your head whips around and your noses brush, you’re so close.

“What’re you?”

“I’m showing you how to really dance.”

Tangerine proceeds to guide you through a series of steps, and you’re equal parts shocked and entranced. Despite the sticky floors, loud noises, and swarming crowd, you are only focused on Tangerine- the musky scent of his cologne, his blue eyes piercing yours, the firm grip of his hands, and his warmth right up against your front.

“Where’d you learn-“

He interrupts you by sending you into a dip. When he pulls you up again, he spins you and then grabs your hips to catch you. You’ve returned to your original positions, nose to nose, but now you’re panting heavily.

You can’t tell if it’s from the dancing or Tangerine.

“And that’s how a real partner spins you,” the brunette grumbles, his breath fanning across your lips.

“Right-“

“Drinks, anyone?!”

Tyler’s voice breaks the thick tension between you and Tangerine, and you accept the distraction gratefully. You spin around and grab the sweaty bottle, taking a long sip.

*****

Tangerine hates all of your friends. Okay, that’s a lie, he only hates Tyler. But he is mad at all of them. What sorta friends are you hanging out with that they leave you all alone in a bar? Okay, not alone. He is with you. And Tyler. But still? Frankly, he hasn’t seen any of those pricks in hours, including his own brother. You’re really drunk and Tyler is not far behind, and Tangerine’s about had enough of it all.

He’s checking his watch for the umpteenth time when he hears your murmur something about getting another drink.

“I think that’s about enough, love,” Tangerine interrupts, “you probably need to be getting home.”

You turn and look at him, your eyes softening into a big pout. He commits the precious look to memory but swears to never bring it up. Sober you would be beyond embarrassed.

“N-nooo, fine. I’ll be fine-“ you hiccup.

The brunette assesses you knowingly, “I don’t think so. Come on, I’ll call an uber to take us all back to our places.”

You stare at Tangerine with squinting eyes, like you’re trying to put him into focus.

“Fineeee, Mr. Moneypants. Come on, Tyler, we’re leaving.”

Your friend looks at you, “what? We’re not rallying to the next bar?”

You shake your head slowly, “time for bed, Ty.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulders and Tangerine clenches his jaw.

“I’ll get us an Uber?”

You pat Tyler on the chest, “not necessary. Tan is getting us one.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and moves his arm away, “alright fine, let’s go.”

Ten minutes later, the uber pulls up and Tyler takes the passenger seat, leaving you and Tangerine in the back. He guides you to the car and opens the door, gently helping you in so you don’t fall. He follows behind, taking a seat, and you collapse into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

Another thing he won’t mention.

Tyler gives instructions to what Tangerine assumes is his apartment, and the car sets off.

Not much later the car comes to a slow halt and Tyler gets out of the car. He peeks his head back in, “come on, love. You coming?”

You drowsily stir from your place on Tangerine’s shoulder. “Mmm? No, I’m going home.”

Tyler sighs, “come on, why don’t you just stay the night? I’ll sleep on the couch and you can have the bed.”

“No Tyler! I wanna go home!”

“Sweetheart-“

“She said she wants to go home, mate. Let it go.”

“And you’re gonna make sure she gets in safely,” Tyler asks rather bitterly.

“Stop the violence,” you mutter nonsensically, and the two hot-headed men look at you.

“Fine, whatever.” Tyler shuts the door and the car speeds off to your place.

Tangerine has no faith you will safely get from this car to your bed, so he pays the driver and gets out with you, supporting you around the waist as you stumble up the steps to your flat. You fumble for your keys in your purse, muttering curses as you shiver in the cold.

“Found it!”

You beam proudly, but then promptly drop them onto the concrete.

“Shit!”

“Here, let me, love.”

Tangerine bends down and grabs them before unlocking the door.

You step inside and he follows suit, careful to lock the door. Your place is homey, and undoubtedly suited to your taste. It even smells like you, and he can’t help but feel relaxed. He sets your keys on the coffee table and lets you lead him down the hall.

You stumble as Tangerine guides you into your room and onto the bed. He bends down on one knee, untying your shoes.

“Why don’t you like me?”

The brunette freezes, your question sending shivers down his spine. “What?”

“Y-you don’t like me Tangerine. And I don’t get it. Why? What have I ever done to you?”

He finally loosens the tie and peels your shoe off before starting on the other.

“Love, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Who said I didn’t like you?”

“Well you did. Okay maybe you didn’t say it. But you said it with your eyes. And the way you never talk to me or acknowledge me. I mean I’m not asking to be your best friend but…”

“You’ve got it all sorts of backwards, sweetheart.”

He pulls off your other shoe, “you have something to sleep in?”

“Oh no I usually sleep naked-“ you answer honestly, reaching for the hem of your shirt.

Tangerine grips your wrists, “that’s alright, you can wait til I’m gone.”

He’s grateful you’re drunk enough to not see him blush. The brunette gently pushes you backwards to lay down and throws your comforter over top of you. He moves towards the door.

“Wait, don’t leave!”

“I’m not, sweetheart, I’m just going to go get you some water.”

You relax back into your bed and nod sleepily.

When Tangerine returns with a glass in hand, you’re still. You’re even breathing tells him you’re asleep, so he simply sets the cup on your night stand and bends down, checking once more that you’re okay.

His eyes trail over your face. It’s softer than he’s ever witnessed before and his heart clenches painfully. Your eyelashes flutter in your sleep and your lips have rested in a pout. He thinks you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

Unable to resist, he reaches out and cups your face, dusting his thumb across your cheekbone once, twice, three times before pulling away.

“You’ve got it all wrong, sweetheart,” he murmurs aloud, “I don’t hate you. I like you too much for my own good.”

Tangerine stands and leaves, shutting the door softly behind him.

What he doesn’t see is your eyes fluttering open at the click of the door.

*****

I like you too much for my own good…

The words spin in your head over and over til you think you’re going to be sick. You sit up and grab the cup of water Tangerine left, taking multiple gulps. Only when you feel a little bit of calm do you finally climb out of bed. It’s a quiet, peaceful morning, opposite of your racing heart.

You trudge down the hall to your kitchen to whip up some coffee and trip over a pair of shoes.

“Fuck!”

You throw your hands out to catch yourself but you don’t hit the ground. A pair of arms catch you.

“How many times am I going to have do that?”

Tangerine is half on your couch, a smirk- an actual smirk- on his face.

You sigh and groan, sitting down onto the floor, “okay that wasn’t my fault. You’re the one who left your shoes in the middle of my floor. In my flat. Remind me, why are you here?”

Tangerine lets go of your waist and pulls back, sitting up stiffly.

“Well I went to take you to bed last night ‘cos you were fucking hammered, and when I tried to leave, the Uber was gone. I… didn’t fucking feel like calling another… and your couch looked comfy… and I was worri- I wanted to make sure someone was here in case you were too drunk.”

Your heart swells, “you were worried about me? I’m starting to think maybe you don’t totally hate me.”

Your reminded of his words again and you freeze, catching his gaze.

“What?”

“Did you know… that I was awake last night. When you came back with the glass of water.”

The brunette grows impossibly stiff, “so you heard…”

“You like me more than you should?”

He sighs and restlessly runs his hand through his hair, “fuck me. Yeah. I’m- fucking Christ, sorry.”

You pull yourself up onto your knees, so that you’re closer to him, “because you’re sorry you said it? Or because you’re sorry I heard it?”

Tangerine grunts and looks down, sniffling, “The latter.”

Heat courses through your body at your confession and you tentatively place a hand on his knee. His head shoots up, his blue eyes looking at you in surprise and… something else. You hold his gaze, hoping your eyes communicate the desire humming through your body.

“Fuck,” he curses, before reaching out and grabbing your waist. This time, when he pulls you in, he kisses you gruffly, and you groan in surprise.

His mustache scratches your upper lip, but it’s not unpleasant. You run your hands up his sides to his shoulders, using his sturdy frame for balance as you stand and straddle his lap. He’s the one to groan this time, his grip bruising as he deepens the kiss.

Everything in this moment feels so good and perfectly right. Your body is alive, thrumming with excitement and desire and passion, and you’re pretty sure you could kiss this man forever and ever. In this moment, you’d do anything he asked.

So, you pull away, pacing yourself.

Tangerine groans as he rests his head on yours, “I wasn’t finished with you, sweetheart.”

“Take your time, Tangerine. We’ve got all day. And luckily, I like you more than I should.”

[sebsbarnes]

Hi i love your work! I was wondering if u could do a fic where tangerine x reader are running from enemies on a job and they end up making out to try and hide from the enemies because pda makes people uncomfortable? Like the comment black widow makes to steve rogers in the winter soldier before she kisses him?

im backkk! so sorry for the massive delay, i love this request. it may be a little rusty so i apologize now.

pda || tangerine

tangerine x reader

warnings: brief talks of shooting and guns

word count: 1.2k+

masterlist

"you're a fuckin' idiot, tan," you snapped in defeat, looking at the man who appeared clueless about the situation.

he tsked and continued to move deeper into the building, "there's nothing to worry about. alarm gets tripped so what? we got a few minutes before anyone shows up."

with slow footsteps you followed behind him. irate was the only word to describe your mood. you mimicked him behind his head, arms up in the air, your gun flailing around dangerously in your right hand as you muttered in a whiny baby voice, 'we got a few minutes'.

tangerine and stubbornness go hand in hand, you can't have one without the other. his attitude made missions sometimes far easier when there were issues with other individuals or, in this case, far more difficult. instead of waiting an extra five minutes for the incoming call from lemon providing tangerine with the keycode, tangerine took it upon himself to smash the keypad. of course, an orchestra of alarms rang out and bounced off the walls of the building in an almost deafening manner. but rest assured, there was no one in the building...according to tangerine.

"c'mon we need to hurry up," you said, now walking in stride with him, "second-floor unit 204."

it was a file the two of you were after. information was scarce to get. a mission would come through, assigned off to you, and that was the extent of knowledge you had. as far as you and tangerine knew, your boss wanted the list of names encrypted on the file. what you didn't know was that the building was teeming with employees ready to defend the file.

there was a loud boom followed by an eerie silence. immediately you and tangerine halted, his hand coming to hover in front of your body preventing you from moving. tangerine's eyebrows were pulled into a deep furrow attempting to use some sort of instinct to decipher where the noise was coming from. he caught your eye before following your pointed fingers that were angled above and to the left. just as he pivoted his head, a symphony of gunshots rang.

"move!" he demanded, gripping your jacket and shoving you behind a structural pillar.

the whizzing of the bullets sounded as if you were surrounded by a swarm of bees. you were silently cursing at tangerine for his rash decisions earlier. you watched as tangerine shot five men in succession.

"oh but we had time, right?" you barked, aiming your sights on seemingly the last gentleman. with a squeeze of the trigger, the bullet went flying, piercing the man on the side of his neck.

tangerine sprinted from his position, "let's go," he directed, grabbing onto your wrist.

"god-," you panted, "i hate working with you sometimes."

"oh shut up," he huffed as your legs pounded against the waxed tiles, your wrist still bouncing in his grasp.

just as the two of you were about to push open the front doors, a bullet shattered the glass causing the two of you to stumble. daring to peer behind you, you were met with about four men charging forward.

"shit, c'mon," tangerine rushed.

tangerine guided you around the corner of the building, sprinting into a busier part of town. there was no chance of losing the men and although the distance between grew wide, you could still hear the pounding of the footsteps. with you in tow, tangerine darted into a convenience store. through short breaths, you could hear tangerine muttering how there is a back exit. you took the opportunity to shrug off your jacket and toss it down one of the aisles in a measly attempt to disguise yourself. without warning you gripped tangerine's button down and popped the first three buttons open. he sent you a look of disgust.

"can you try disguising yourself?" the annoyance in your tone evident. without a word, tangerine huffed as he discarded his perfectly tailored jacket and vest by shoving it into a man's arms.

you and tangerine decided to cut into a park. it was risky doing so. the park only had one real entrance and exit and there wasn't much to hide behind. tangerine figured it was the best option instead of walking the busy streets and putting innocent lives in danger. so, the two of you darted through the gate but not before one last look at the unwelcomed guests trailing behind. thankfully, there was enough distance that the man leading the pack didn't notice the small detour you two took.

"what the fuck!" you groaned quietly after a few minutes of heaving breaths and pebbles scattering beneath your feet. you noticed one of the men walking slowly through the park's weaving pathways.

tangerine ran a hand through his hair, "we got nowhere to go."

you felt your palms getting sweaty as you tried raking your brain of what to do. tangerine looked just as clueless as you. the park had one entrance and the two of you were trapped in the corner.

"kiss me."

"what?" tangerine asked incredulously.

"pda, it uh-" you stammered, "it makes people uncomfortable."

a nervous chuckle escaped his lips but you couldn't miss the way his tongue poked out between his lips, "i'm not-"

before your mind could process your movements you were shoving tangerine by the shoulders and forcing him to sit down on the park bench. as if it was the most natural action in the world, you placed your knees on either side of his legs and sat on his thighs. leaning down you pressed your lips against his. your hands trailed up the back of his neck and into his now loose curls. you noted how tangerine didn't seem to move at first until it was like he suddenly came to life and his hands gripped at your hips.

tangerine's mind was spinning. he'd never dare to admit but he dreamed of this. the way your lips slotted perfectly into his, the feeling of your heart thumping against his chest, your nails gently gliding against his scalp, the feeling of your weight on him.

the kiss was gentle yet desperate. a kiss so perfect that you only read about it in romance novels. too perfect that you didn't even hear the suited man wielding a gun mutter how disgusting people are these days. his grimacing face going unnoticed as your lips molded to tangerine's. the echo of his footsteps receding faded into the night.

your lungs burned for air but you couldn't bring yourself to pull away. tangerine's cologne clouded your senses with a perfect mixture of cedarwood and green mandarin. his facial hair tickled at your face. you could feel tangerine's thigh flex with the movement of your body. his hands cradled your frame, your shirt slightly bunched in between his fingers. it pained you to pull away but you lost the ability to breathe.

your eyes fluttered in a sense of disbelief but also awe as tangerine's eyes bounced around your face. he noted the way your chest rapidly rose and fell, but for him, his breathing paused. he took in the way your lips were slightly swollen and glistening, the vanilla lip balm you applied earlier now transferred to his lips. your shirt now lopsided on your shoulders from him gripping your sides. though only one lamp lit the bench the two of you were perched on, tangerine could still see the pink flush dancing across your cheeks. gently, he raised his hand and brushed his thumb across your bottom lip, already missing the kiss.

if pda made people uncomfortable, tangerine wanted the whole world to feel unsettled.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Dad!Tangerine x wife!fem!reader

Summary: Based on the song "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus"

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none

~ MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE EVERYONE 🎄♥️ (and happy holidays to those who don't celebrate Christmas!!)

"I saw Mummy kissing Santa Claus last night," Clement suddenly exclaims, looking up from where he's unwrapping his presents, the wrapper torn in his small hands. The six-year-old looks dead serious, and Tangerine almost chokes on his hot chocolate, excusing himself and clearing his throat.

You tense beside your husband on the sofa, clutching his thigh. Apricot, your daughter and Clement's twin, turns to her dad from where she's sitting on his lap, previously happily admiring the doll Santa gave her. Her lips turn into a pout, and her dark brown curls fall over her eyes. She clumsily pushes them away with her palm, tilting her head as she narrows her eyes at you, examining your expression.

"Hm, did she now, Clem?" Lemon pipes up, sitting straighter. He sends his brother a smirk, and your cheeks warm up.

"I did no such thing," you say, your tone light.

"I saw you," Clement insists, standing up. He's wearing the red-and-green reindeer-printed pajamas you, Tangerine, and Apricot are also wearing. Tangerine had rolled his eyes and said it was tacky, but you'd made him wear them anyway.

"Right there," Clement adds, very seriously, pointing to the living room under the mistletoe in the archway you'd put up as a joke. Tangerine looks mortified.

Lemon bursts into laughter, clearly deducing what must have happened.

Tangerine locks eyes with you, the memory silently replaying in both of your minds. He had woken you up around 1 am. last night, your eyes still bleary from sleep, and hurried you into the kitchen to drink and eat the milk and cookies Apricot and Clement had set out for Santa.

You remember leaning against the counter, nibbling on the cookies with a smile. Tangerine returned your smile, wiping some crumbs from your lips with his thumb.

"These are delicious, my love," Tangerine had said. The kitchen was dimly lit by the light from inside the refrigerator. You beamed, placing one half-eaten cookie back onto the plate and looking up at your husband. You searched for something nearby, then turned back around and plopped a Santa hat lopsided on his head.

"Very handsome," you teased, your sleepy state making it all the more hilarious. Tangerine chuckled, his hands tightening around your hips. He kept the hat on, pushing you backward until you were standing beneath the archway—where you'd conveniently hung the mistletoe.

"Oops," Tangerine drawled, his voice low and husky.

You looked up, a smirk curling your lips. "Hm." You leaned up and kissed his cheek.

Tangerine shook his head, his arms tightening around you as he captured your lips in his. He kissed you passionately, the hat's pom-pom falling in front of your nose. You laughed, cupping his cheeks as you pulled him closer.

You both must have missed hearing the tiny gasp and the light footsteps rushing back up the stairs to Clement's room.

"Mummy wouldn't kiss Santa," Apricot interrupts, pulling your attention back to the present. Tangerine bounces her on his knee, smiling at his daughter. "Santa is old. Daddy is young," she tells her brother as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

"Daddy is not that young," Clement replies, rolling his eyes. He rushes to Tangerine and pokes his dad's temple. "Grey," he states, causing Lemon to erupt into another fit of laughter.

"Oi, buddy, not nice," Tangerine shakes his head. He’s bouncing Apricot a little less now, glaring at his son. There's no real malice behind the look, but you know your husband well enough to tell he doesn't like his age being scrutinized.

You turn and help Clement into your lap, pushing some hair away from his forehead, desperately trying to come up with an excuse without ruining the illusion of Santa for your six-year-old.

"Mummy was just kissing Santa on the cheek," you scramble to explain. You wonder how Clement has such a strong sense of right and wrong while only being six years old. "As a thank-you for bringing you and your sister such amazing gifts!"

"And is Daddy okay with you giving Santa a kiss?" Clement asks suspiciously.

You turn to Tangerine, locking eyes with him.

"Yeah, is he okay with it, hm?" Lemon teases, sipping his hot chocolate.

Tangerine clears his throat, nodding. "Yeah, bud, I am. Mummy was just being nice."

"So she could get more presents?" Apricot jumps in, smiling widely, showing her missing tooth.

You laugh. "Yeah, exactly that, sweetie," you say. Tangerine hums, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze.

Clement jumps down from your lap, returning to check the presents until he finds one for you. He scurries over and drops it in your lap.

"Here, Mummy, this is for you!"

"Thank you, honey," you smile at him.

You look at the tag: For Mummy, From Santa, scribbled in Tangerine's handwriting. Your heart warms as you carefully unwrap it, revealing a small, unmistakable jewelry box.

"What is it?" Apricot scrambles off Tangerine’s lap, accidentally kneeing his groin. He groans and gently pushes her off so she can see your present.

You open the box carefully, revealing a delicate, clearly expensive necklace—the very one you'd admired while window shopping with Tangerine. Your smile widens as you hold it up for your daughter to see.

"Seems expensive," Lemon quips, earning a small glare from his brother.

"It's shiny," Apricot says, and Clement reaches up to touch it, but you hand him the box instead, not wanting him to break the chain. You ruffle his hair with your free hand.

"Santa knows me very well," you say, meeting Tangerine's gaze. You smile at the faint blush on his cheeks.

"You should give him another kiss when you see him, Mummy!" Clement exclaims, still playing with the box.

Lemon suppresses a laugh as you nod, smiling at Tangerine—who is hiding his own giddy smile while clearing his throat.

"I just will," you whisper, your tone light and suggestive as you slip on the necklace. Your eyes stay on your husband, enjoying how flustered he looks, and you wink at him.

You’ll be giving him more than a kiss to thank him.